The Prophet Conspiracy (8 page)

It was a different clerk whose light went off this time, but Eli Segal walked over to her desk just the same. When he read the words on her screen, though, he knew there would be no time to ask her opinion of what to do.

“Send it to me now!” he shouted, turning and running back to his desk. “And again if anything more comes in!”

He got to his phone and started dialing. This was no tentative guess about something that might merit the attention of Internal Affairs. This was an urgent action message for the Tel Aviv bureau chief. He knew her, so he circumvented the normal channels and called her direct line.

“Tikva, it’s Eli,” he panted into the phone. Sweat popped out of his forehead even from the brief run across the room, and he reminded himself of his promise to walk more.

“Eli?
Layla tov
,” she replied, using the Hebrew for good evening.

“No time. We just took in a message here. It was only five words long. ‘Set off the bomb.’ And the receiving number was geolocated at Ben Gurion!”

Tikva Berg swore on the other end of the line and hung up without another word. Eli could picture her barking orders to her field agents. There would be Shin Bet agents stationed at Ben Gurion airport at all times, and they would surely be told to try to find the bomb. But if Segal knew her, Tikva would be sending additional agents as well and going herself. She had been a sniper when she did her mandatory service in the IDF, and she would not leave the danger to others.

He had done his part in passing the warning to field agents. But he used to be one of those himself and sitting at his desk twiddling his thumbs while a bomb was about to go off grated against his every instinct.

He clicked send on a forward of the email the clerk had passed on to him. That would send the report through formal channels, even though he had already gone around those. But he still wanted to do more.

At a loss, he called his boss, the Director of the Division for Countering Terrorism. As the cell phone rang and rang, he muttered, “Pick up Maya… pick up!”

**********

Godwin walked away from Toma’s sedan. She felt hot tears in her eyes. Rage, impotence, and shame mixed together into a potent emotional cocktail causing her to stumble as she walked.

She was caught in a trap of her own making. Youthful stupidity and adult ambition combined in a way that left her no choice. She couldn’t let people see those pictures. Drug addiction would not necessarily disqualify a person from working for the Shin Bet. But appointment to the Director’s post wasn’t just about the regulations. It was political. And for that, she would need to appear beyond reproach.

She went over the situation in her head one more time, but there was no way out of the simple political calculation. The Knesset would never approve a new Director of the Shin Bet who had pictures like that out there. If nothing else, it would make them wonder what else might be out there about her.

All of which added up to one simple, horrible, painful conclusion. She must let Toma and his terrorists set off their bomb in Ben Gurion. Then she must fix the blame on Cameron Dorn and this American woman with whom he was now associated.

She cursed Toma. The man was even making her feel guilty of her hatred for Dorn. She wanted him humiliated. She wanted him to suffer. But she didn’t want it bad enough to murder innocents.

One of her cell phones buzzed. Godwin reached into her purse and pulled out the one ringing. It was her official, encrypted phone. And the screen told her Eli Segal was calling; Dorn’s former partner, who she had exiled to the surveillance bureau for the crime of knowing Cameron Dorn too well. Guilt and shame were in every direction, it seemed.

She waited for a moment, breathing deeply, exhaling, and then breathing again. She didn’t want to break down sobbing on the phone with him.

Finally, she pressed answer and said, simply, “Godwin.”

“Maya, it’s Eli—”

She interrupted him. “I know, Segal. Caller ID.”

“No time! No time, Maya! My people just intercepted a message. There’s a bomb about to go off at Ben Gurion.”

He knew? Already he knew? The surveillance people were better than she had ever expected. Or else…

Toma never promised anything about his timeline for setting off the bomb. Apparently, things had already been in motion, even while he asked her to —
informed
her she
must
— help frame Dorn.

So this was the moment of truth. She could tell Segal the bomb was planted by Hamas and Haaris Toma. She could reveal everything she knew.

Or she could preserve her hope of ascending to one of the two highest intelligence posts in Israel.

“Maya? Director Godwin? Are you there?”

Godwin sighed.

“I’m glad your people also discovered it. Other agents have uncovered some intelligence about this bomb as well. We’re looking for an American woman named Siobhan McLane. This is her cell phone number. Get to work tracing it.”

**********

They parked the bike in a public lot, and then walked a few blocks to a small coffee shop in Tel Aviv. Both ordered something to drink and went to sit in the back of the room. Cam picked out a corner table and sat with his back to the wall, watching the crowd and the door.

All around them, people chattered in Hebrew and Arabic. In the background, a TV showed scenes of the latest American hit reality show. The smell of fresh ground beans filled the air.

To Siobhan, it seemed unreal. For the past two days, someone had tried repeatedly to either kidnap her or kill her. She was beginning to feel like she’d never be calm again. Every time she started to relax, or feel like she had things under control, something else happened to make it worse. The armed assault on the road today, the kidnapping, the tunnel chase…

In the midst of all that, how could there be a calm world where people sipped lattes and watched attention-seekers make fools of themselves on TV?

Her four-o’clock flight back to the U.S. was gone by now. Once she had shut her phone off, Cam drove all over the city of Tel Aviv to make sure they were nowhere near the last place they had been tracked. He said he was also making sure they weren’t followed.

Then he told her the terrorists would certainly look for them at Ben Gurion. Having tracked them on their journey toward the airport, and assuming if they were good enough hackers to track the phone they were good enough to have figured out when her flight left, the airport was the next logical place to reacquire them. He absolutely forbade her from going there.

Siobhan felt cold tendrils of panic creeping around the edges of her consciousness every time she thought of that departed flight. She had already gone through the three hundred dollars in spending money she’d brought to Israel. Her credit cards were all maxed out long before she came. She literally did not understand how to get back to the U.S. now with no money. The airline app on her phone had all the ticket info, but what good was that when the flight she had a ticket for was already gone?

And, of course, even if all that worked out, she wasn’t sure how to get to Ben Gurion Airport without being shot at. Whoever these terrorists were, they hadn’t given up on her yet. Maybe Cam was right and they would quit after he went to Shin Bet with what they knew. But that possibility was still in the future. Until that happened, she wasn’t sure how she would ever feel safe again.

For the past day, she had placed all of her hope in the flight to America. That hope was now gone. She couldn’t get home, she couldn’t be safe here, and Siobhan didn’t know if she’d ever feel secure again.

“How come my phone was such a problem?” she asked.

“Every phone is built with a GPS locator these days. It’s so the ambulance can find you if you ever call in an emergency, like dialing 911 back home. A skilled enough hacker—”

He cut off in mid-sentence as the TV switched to a breaking news story.

The entire screen was filled with their faces.

********

Maya Godwin stood in the briefing room at the Tel Aviv bureau. It reminded her of a college lecture hall, but that thought put her mind on those old pictures. She blanked it out and turned to address the assembled agents.

What she said would be transcribed and transmitted to the rest of her people. She was giving orders to every agent in the division for countering terror.

Despite the long day of work, her suit still looked perfect. She had her hair in the tightest of buns. Toma had given her the Jericho pistol back, and it was tucked into the waistband of her skirt at the small of her back.

“Many of you knew Cameron Dorn. I did, too. If you did, it probably fills you with rage the same way it does me. Terrorists are bad enough. Traitor terrorists are the lowest of the low.

“Dorn and I used to work together. It hurts me to think the things he learned from me when I was a demolitions expert may have gone into the bomb he set off today. We are the line between the people of Israel and the people who want to wipe it off the map. One of our own just killed twelve of the people we’re supposed to protect.”

She paused, making eye contact with several of the agents in the auditorium. None of them liked the idea of a traitor very much; she could see it in their faces.

Behind her, the building’s audiovisual system projected a slideshow. The most recent photo they had of Dorn was on the screen. Then it shifted to one of the American girl.

“His accomplice is Siobhan McLane, an American citizen. No doubt she believes the Hamas propaganda about how evil Israel is.”

She paused for the expected eye-rolls and snorts from the agents.

“We have clear evidence of her involvement with Hamas. We don’t know whether she corrupted Dorn or he corrupted her, but we want to find out.

“Her, we want alive. As for Dorn…”

She paused long enough to make sure everyone was paying attention.

“Your orders are to stop him from killing again. Whether he survives is immaterial to the mission. Does anyone have any questions?”

No one spoke.

********

Given a cell phone number, Eli Segal’s clerks could do miracles. It didn’t take long to determine Siobhan McLane had made several calls to known Hamas operatives both before and during her visit to Israel.

Her phone had not transmitted very much for the past day but no doubt that was explained by operational security from Hamas. The terrorists knew about Israel’s wiretapping abilities. They would want their operatives to maintain radio silence in the lead up to an op.

Obviously, though, Ms. McLane was no professional.

The hardest part was believing the Director about Siobhan McLane working with Cameron Dorn.

Dorn! A double agent? It wasn’t possible. They were friends. They had been partners. They had trusted their lives to each other.

And yet… the man had motive. He’d been so angry over being fired, Segal himself had recommended he get counseling.

Dorn’s career was completely over. He’d gone from being a rising agent in one of the world’s top counter-intelligence agencies to being a lowly tour guide. Was that enough motive to turn him against his adopted country?

Segal had to know for sure before he turned Dorn in. He just had to.

And unlike the rest of the Shin Bet, he had the means to find out.

Back when they’d been working together, Dorn used to take him to all his favorite places. The man loved his coffee, and there was only one place in Tel Aviv Dorn considered worthwhile.

The pudgy supervisor of wiretappers walked over to his desk and took out his service weapon. Unlike Godwin, he carried an American Glock. He holstered the weapon, strapped it under his shoulder, and then put on his extra-large blazer to conceal it. With that, he walked toward the motor pool to check out a car for the drive to Tel Aviv.

Cam stopped speaking in mid-sentence as the TV switched to a breaking news story.

The entire screen was filled with their faces.

“Cameron Dorn, a former agent of the Shin Bet, is being sought as a suspect in the terrorist incident at Ben Gurion International Airport earlier today,” the newscaster said. She spoke in Hebrew; English subtitles scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

“Dorn is believed to be acting in concert with an American Hamas sympathizer named Siobhan McLane. McLane came to Israel calling herself a tourist but did not leave on her scheduled flight. A Shin Bet investigation so far has revealed evidence she has been in contact with known Hamas operatives.”

The anchor went on to describe the bomb planted in the airport, the press release claiming responsibility sent by a Hamas operative with whom Siobhan had supposedly been in contact, the casualty count, and more.

Siobhan looked at Cameron in horror. He simply stared at the screen, taking it all in. Only when the breaking news update ended did he finally speak in a low whisper.

“It’s the smart play,” he said. “They need to keep us from getting Shin Bet involved in this. Now, we can’t.”

“But if we just go to them and explain…”

Cameron shook his head. “It’s not going to be that easy. Look at this: it’s on TV already and fully developed. This is a professional frame up. Anyone skilled enough to get this done is not going to have been sloppy enough that we can undo it with a quick interview.”

She clenched her teeth together and felt her fear turning into anger and determination.

He squeezed her hand and made eye contact. She could feel the strength in his hands. Then he said,

“Give me some time. I don’t have the full solution yet. But I
will
get you out of this, Siobhan. I don’t know what else goes along with that, but I know that much. I will get you out.”

The strength… the confidence… seven thousand miles, she reminded herself.

She held her eye contact with him and said, “Cameron, I’m sick of this. I don’t know who’s doing this to my life, but I want to hurt them back.”

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side.

She continued, “These people tried to kidnap me, tried to kill me, they may have succeeded in stranding me in Israel, and now they’re trying to frame me for mass murder? Why? I’m not the kind of person who finds it easy to just ignore something like this. I want to know what’s going on.”

Still holding her hand, Cam said, “I don’t know what kind of Hamas plot you stumbled on, but I do know this: we’re up against professionals. If they think you can tell the Israeli government about their tunnels…”

Siobhan interrupted him. “I’m not sure this is about tunnels, Cam.”

“Why not?”

She said, “I think this is about my find: the ancient inscription in those ruins. I think that’s why all this happened.”

“But Siobhan, it’s probably fifteen hundred years old…”

“I know, but Umar started shooting people right after we showed him the ruin. Literally, it was within moments of seeing it.”

Cam countered, “If there was some evidence of Hamas tunnels near the ruin that might explain it, too.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know any evidence like that is even there. I can’t imagine killing someone over something more than a thousand years old either, but the moment he saw it he started trying to kill me.”

After a few moments quietly sipping coffee, Cameron said, “OK, let’s look into it further. I still don’t believe anyone is committing murder and terrorism over archaeology but maybe there’s something.

“If there’s a clue here, I don’t know what it is. But I’ve got an idea. My old teacher at the tour guide school is much better at this kind of thing than I am. I want to go see him.”

“Tour guide school?” Siobhan asked.

“Technically known as the School of Tourism. His name is Ibrahim al Aziz. We go way back.”

“Why him?” she asked.

“We’re really close. He’s an old friend. He suggested the idea of becoming a tour guide to me when I got fired from Shin Bet. He’s not going to believe the accusations against me so at least we know he’ll talk to us.”

Cam continued, “Also, Ibrahim knows languages. He taught me how to read Latin when I was becoming a tour guide, and that’s only one of the languages he knows.

“Hopefully, he’ll do better than we did at spotting anything that stands out in the picture. There’s even a chance he’ll know what the inscription in your picture says. If we can translate that, we’ll have a real leg up in figuring out why anyone would kill over it.”

**********

The two of them sat in the dark back corner of the coffee shop until the sun set outside and they could leave in the darkness. With their faces all over the news, night seemed to offer the best hope of not being spotted and turned in to the police.

Cam led the way, and Siobhan followed him out of the coffee shop. It seemed strange that her friend placed so much faith in his old instructor at tour guide school; on the other hand, it felt good to be going to see someone with at least a little archaeological knowledge.

As they walked into the parking lot, Cameron stopped dead in his tracks. Siobhan almost ran into him. She stepped to the side to see around him.

Standing in front of Cameron, holding a pistol aimed straight at his face, was a short man in a navy blue blazer. He was balding and what was left of his hair was half-gray and half-brown.

“Eli?” Cam asked.

“Why, Cameron? You can’t have been so mad about getting fired you’d turn into a terrorist. I thought I knew you better than that.”

“I didn’t, Eli. We’re being framed. We’re innocent.”

“I want to believe it,” the shorter man replied. “But I need more. You’ve got motive. Your DNA was all over that bomb. Your friend there has been calling Hamas people since she got to our country.”

“I have not!” said Siobhan.

“Eli, she doesn’t know anything about Hamas. She was just in one of my groups earlier this week. She’s just a tourist.”

“That’s not what the phone records say.”

“Eli, you know me. We worked together for years. I taught you everything…” Cam’s voice trailed off, and then he said, “That’s how you found us, isn’t it? I showed you all the good places in this town to get coffee.”

Segal nodded his head and said, “You’ve been out too long, Cameron. You’ve gone soft. You forget how to do this job.”

He paused, and then went on.

“Cameron, I’ve got orders to bring you in if it can be done without risk, but I have also been given the order to shoot you on the spot if it can’t. Godwin wants your head on a platter.”

“Of course she does, man! You know about Godwin and me. She hasn’t liked me since she was disarming bombs in the marketplace.”

“No, Cameron,” Segal replied. “This is different. She’s far different now. She seriously wants you dead. I came here myself because I’m the only guy in the Shin Bet who’s likely to bring you in alive. It’s bad enough your bomb killed a dozen people today, but you’re supposed to be one of us. Everyone else is talking about following the shoot on sight part of the order.

“I need you to surrender and come in with me.”

“Eli, listen to me. Siobhan discovered something. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t know why, but people have been trying to kill her ever since. That’s why we’re being framed.”

“Discovered what?” Segal asked.

“We’re not sure; some inscription at an archaeological dig.”

Cam’s old partner narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth, and shook his head.

“What? Kill her over something at an archaeological dig? Cam that’s crazy. That’s dumb tourist junk. Let’s just go back to Headquarters. You can sort this out with the Division for Interrogation.”

“I can’t do that, Eli. I can’t let you put Siobhan in the interrogation facility. You and I both know what goes on in there.”

Siobhan remembered Cameron pointing out the facility when they had toured Jerusalem. It was a very old building, from the time of the Turks.

“Cam, please don’t make me do this.”

“Eli, I’m sorry old friend, but she’s not going there. Not while I can do anything about it.”

Cameron moved so fast Siobhan could barely follow it. He slapped the other man hard on the underside of the wrist holding the gun. At the same time, with his other hand, he grabbed the gun barrel and shoved it to his right, clenching the slide tightly in his closed fist.

The gun went off once, pointed away from Cam and Siobhan. She screamed and so did a few passers-by. Then Cameron had it in his hand, somehow. He kicked the other agent in the groin, and then drove his knee into the man’s gut. Segal fell down to all fours, vomiting on the pavement.

“I truly am sorry, Eli. I never wanted to do that.”

Siobhan stood still, staring at the gun in Cam’s hand. Cam snapped the fingers of his free hand to get her attention.

“Run as fast as you humanly can for as long as possible,” he said. “Take any series of turns you want. We need to clear the area before he calls in backup. I’ll be right behind you.”

Siobhan ran off. Cam waited a second so he could pull Eli’s phone out of his pocket while his friend was still recovering from the fight. He discharged the weapon a second time, destroying the phone.

Then Cameron ran after Siobhan.